She Makes Me Laugh
by ColumbiaSings
Summary: A typical "morning after" for Frank and Columbia. I'd appreciate any reviews, suggestions, or critique. Columbia/Frank/Riff Raff


I do not own any of these characters.

The third of my character-building scenes. I wanted to explore what, exactly, drew Frank to Columbia in the first place. I think that their relationship started out as something real, and then degraded over time to what we see in the movie. For details about the "screeching," see "Disturbed." If you leave me a review, I'll drag out my tap shoes and sing a happy little song for you.

She Makes Me Laugh

Early morning. Columbia was curled up in a fetal position against Frank's side, her limbs tangled in the crimson sheets. Some tattered lingerie and several empty wine bottles littered the carpet. Yesterday's mascara and carefully drawn eyebrows smeared Columbia's pillow and face, and her red lipstick decorated Frank's chest like welts.

A particularly pungent note from downstairs woke Frank with a start. He groggily fell out of bed and staggered to the wall intercom.

"Riff Raff, you idiot! What did I say about that horrendous screeching so early in the morning!"

"Erm…sorry, master…I'll put her away," his voice crackled over the intercom.

"Good!" Frank snapped.

Columbia yawned and slowly sat up in the bed, wincing at the new bruise on her hip. One arm held a sheet across her naked chest, while the other carelessly rubbed congealed makeup from her irritated eye. She suddenly realized her mistake and jerked her arm away in frustration.

"Crap!" she muttered, examining the rainbow of smudged makeup on her arm. Now her face must be an absolute mess.

She made a hasty movement to get to the bathroom, but a crippling hangover hindered her escape.

"God...damn!" She collapsed back onto the bed, her hands clutching her throbbing forehead. _What the heck happened last night? _She was exhausted. It had been this way for a few weeks, a cyclical vortex of cheap wine, raging parties, and debilitating hangovers. She loved every second of it—except for right now, of course, as she miserably came to terms with her painful headache and the dismal state of her cosmetic appearance.

This whole situation was quite comical to Frank, who, having found a half-finished glass of wine on the dresser, silently toasted Columbia from the other side of the room.

"_What?_" Columbia snapped. Frank pouted his lips and sipped the wine conspiratorially. He was so confident. And beautiful. _And_ it looked like he was ready for some early morning action. _But I look like SHIT, _she thought to herself, _He's crazy if he thinks he can just pout like that and expect me to just roll over like a bitch in heat._ Frank's eyes gleamed with lust. _Aw shit. Here we go. _

Frank downed the last of the wine, tossed the glass, and began playfully stalking the bed. He looked like a cat about to pounce, slightly hunched, staring her down.

An adrenaline rush hit Columbia like a freight train. No matter how irritable she felt right now, it thrilled her when Frank pursued her like this. She let out an involuntary squeal and dove under the covers.

Frank chuckled and leaped onto the bed, grabbing a shrieking Columbia by the waist and forcefully pulling her body underneath his.

"No, no, no, no, no!" she protested, giggling and squirming uncontrollably. Frank whipped the covers from her body and leaned forward for a passionate kiss.

"WAIT!" She gasped, laughing, "MY BREATH!"

Suddenly, Frank lost it. Columbia watched in wonder as he fell sideways off of her, gripping the bed as his body shook with crippling seizures. Columbia had never seen him react this way—to _anything_. Frank tried to fight the spasms, but it was futile. He had no choice but to surrender himself to this new sensation of uncontrollable laughter. Columbia seized the opportunity to make her escape.

_Jesus Christ—that was close! _Columbia leapt from the bed and ran stark naked to the bathroom. _I probably smell like a fucking I don't know what…_

"Wait…" Frank gasped in between laughs, "Columbia…" At the sight of Columbia's frantic arms and trembling thighs as she ran to the bathroom, Frank could barely breathe.

Frank grabbed another half-finished glass of wine from the nightstand and took a quick swig. He heard an anguished cry from the bathroom.

"FRANK!" Columbia shrieked, "I look like a circus clown that's been run over by a truck, digested by a cow, and then shit out as manure! And you wanted to _kiss_ me?"

A spray of wine exploded from Frank's lips as he was assaulted with a fresh bought of laughter.

"Columbia, I've been meaning to tell you," he coughed, "I have this thing for clowns…"

"Gee, thanks, Frank!"

"Oh my dear, don't _panic, _I was just…_"_

Columbia swore to herself and started the shower. Frank chuckled. He loved how sassy she was, how she had a mind of her own. That she dared to run away. But she could never resist him for long.

"Fraaaaaank-ieeee," Columbia called from the shower.

"Coming!" Frank sighed and rose from the bed, grabbing a fresh bottle of wine from the shelf and heading towards the bathroom. He opened the door and leaned against the doorframe, eyeing her silhouette through the shower curtain. Columbia peeked her head out and grinned.

"You can kiss me now."


End file.
